The blasting wind pelted Sigurd Berg’s already weathered face with sleety rain. His cheeks stung. His lips were chafed raw. His nose streamed. He was sure he’d look like some fucking dumb caricature of Rudolph.
Of all the nights to be doing this…
With a constant grating, scraping noise, he scrabbled and heaved the barrel across the tarmac. Not rolled. He couldn’t afford to put the thing on its side and risk the lid popping open and the contents spilling out. The edge of the dock was ten yards away. Beyond it, the inky salt water rippled under the dim light of the moon that was throttled by dark clouds. Berg shivered as he looked out.
Lifeless.
He heaved again and the barrel moved all of a few inches. He was out of breath, his heart pounded against his ribs. But this would all be over with soon enough. The first barrel was already on board.
Berg took a breath and gritted his teeth and pushed with more effort still. Finally some momentum. In a single burst of strength and energy and endeavor the barrel shifted a few feet, then a few more. Finally, the end was in sight.
He froze when he heard a car engine. Nearby. The fact the sound had cut through the howling wind confirmed it was close. He whipped his head around. He’d left on a single light in the factory, in the office area. From out here the inner illumination was only faintly visible through the sporadic, grimy translucent panels in the warehouse roof.
Berg glanced from beyond the factory to the road. Sure enough, two bright headlight beams bounced into view as the vehicle came over the hump toward the entrance to the yard.
He groaned, took his hands from the barrel, and strode away. At least the wind was behind him now, pushing him forward with vigor.
He reached the side door to the warehouse area as the car came to a pause at the closed gates. With the glare of the headlights, he had no clue who was behind the wheel. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him then stared across the space. The office was in the opposite corner. Why hadn’t he turned the light off after he’d pushed the last barrel outside?
He heard a car door open then close. A clunk as the outer gates opened. Berg rushed over and into the office, and slid in behind his desk.
Shit. Hat. Gloves. Coat. Berg stripped them all off quickly and stuffed them under the desk then fired up his computer and stared at the screen just as the figure came into view in the open doorway.
He jumped theatrically.
‘Marius! What the hell?’
Marius was one of two warehouse managers. Berg’s employee, technically.
‘What’s going on?’ Marius said, his suspicion clear, even if he was speaking to his boss.
Berg got to his feet, narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you doing here? At this time of night?’
That was the way to do it. Push back. Make him feel uncomfortable.
Marius looked a little taken aback. ‘I was… I was passing by. I thought I saw a light on. I did warn you about security. You know—’
‘Yes, I know. Rosen Tech’s factory was broken into last month. Thank you.’
Rosen Tech’s sleek new factory was a little over half a mile from here. A huge, space-age structure that had cost hundreds of millions of kroner. Berg remained dubious as to how his lifelong peer – essentially competitor – Erik Rosen had found the investment for that. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t smiled broadly when he’d heard the place had been ransacked one night. Vandals, who’d destroyed millions of kroners’ worth of equipment.
Why? Who knew.
Berg didn’t want to know.
‘Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,’ Marius said.
‘It is. I’m just getting some details ready for the audit.’
Berg glanced at his watch. Quarter past two. He wanted to ask Marius where the hell he’d been until this time of night, but mostly he just wanted the guy to get lost.
‘You’re sure everything is okay?’ Marius asked. ‘You look…’
For some reason, he didn’t finish the sentence.
‘I’m nearly done,’ Berg said. ‘You should get home. Doesn’t your shift start at eight?’
Marius said nothing as he continued to stare. Then he nodded and looked back over to the main warehouse area.
‘See you tomorrow, then?’ he said as he briefly glanced back.
‘Yeah.’
He moved away. Berg craned his neck to follow his movement. Marius paused as he looked across the warehouse floor. What had he seen?
Berg’s heart thudded in his chest even more quickly now than when he’d been outside. Had he made a mistake? He’d tried his best to clean up, but…
He looked across the office space. Weapon… weapon… There must be something.
Just outside the office. A wrench.
He got to his feet. Marius looked back over to him again. Seriously unimpressed about something…
But then he simply turned and walked for the exit.
Berg remained where he was. Didn’t move a muscle. Not until he heard the car door. Then the engine. Then the gates. Open. Close. Engine fading.
Seconds later all he could hear was the wind and rain outside, and his erratic heartbeat.
He exhaled then took a few seconds to get his breathing under control before he strode out to the warehouse floor. He looked left, right, up, down.
No. Nothing there. Nothing suspicious, at least.
But time was getting away from him. He had to get this done. He grabbed his hat, gloves, and coat, put them all back on, then moved out into the bitter night once more. He glanced toward the gates. No one there now.
Unless Marius had sneaked around the corner or something? But why would he do that?
Berg put those silly thoughts to the side. Back to work. He fought against the wind and rain to reach the barrel. The weather seemed even worse now than before.
With renewed strength, he shoved the barrel the rest of the way, then as delicately as he could – which wasn’t very delicate at all – he pushed the barrel over the edge and onto the deck of the boat. A thunderous thud echoed as the barrel smacked down, and the ship wobbled side to side. He jumped down beside the barrel and made sure it stayed upright. It did. Not a very delicate way to get the barrels on board, but the boat would be fine – it’d seen worse treatment than this out in the beastly North Sea.
He sighed in relief. Now that he, the barrels, and their contents were all on board, tonight’s journey would be a cinch.
Minutes later the engine chugged as the boat pushed away from the dock, and out into the infinite blackness. He didn’t need to go far. Just far enough for the barrels to be well under, and out of sight forever.
He was less than two miles from shore when he turned off the engine and the boat slowed, rocking up and down on the choppy waves. Not the stormiest of nights, but still it would make the task of hauling the barrels over the edge that little bit more difficult.
Berg got to work. The first barrel went over the edge with relative ease. The second was harder – after all, its contents were that bit more weighty than the first. As he shoved and heaved and lifted, Berg imagined the top of the barrel peeling away. The contents spilling all over him and the ship’s deck. The thought was enough to cause his stomach to turn over. Not helped by the constantly swaying craft he was standing on.
Finally, with a huge splash that sent a rush of freezing salt water all over him, the second barrel was in the sea, glugging out of sight, and on its way to the bottom.
Berg didn’t move from the spot for a couple of minutes as he stared at the water. Quite why, he wasn’t sure. Partly because he was waiting to see if either of the barrels would resurface. But how could they, with the weight inside? The other reason was because his mind was racing with calamitous thoughts, not least his imaginings of what other horrors lay down there at the bottom of the sea. This surely wasn’t the first time someone had made a trip out here like this.
It was his first. He prayed it’d be the last.
Morose thoughts taking over, he slunk back inside the cabin and got the boat moving back to shore.
* * *
It had gone 4 a.m. by the time Berg arrived home. He’d be up again at seven. In the bedroom, he stripped off and slipped into bed. His skin was ice cold all over. He didn’t move over to Isabell. She was sleeping soundly and his coldness would surely disturb her.
No luck. He’d already managed to do that somehow. She groaned and sighed and turned over to face him.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked with her eyes still closed.
‘Sorry,’ was all he said to that.
He reached out and took her hand. She flinched a little but then wrapped her fingers around his.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. Of course.’
His voice had sounded sincere enough. He just hoped the darkness in the room helped to mask the lie.